Daddy Nearest - Second Arc
by Thursday's Dove
Summary: If there were two contingencies Near had never planned for, it was becoming a father... and everything else that came with it. Part 7 of series, and the second of two arcs.
1. Chapter 1

**Please note that this fic is part of a series - Please refer to my profile for where this falls in the timeline. This can be read as a stand-alone, but we are reaching the point in the timeline where things might start to get confusing to readers who pick up in the middle. I would at least go back and start with Daddy Nearest - First Arc, but I think it'll be okay to start here if you truly wish.  
**

**Hello and welcome! If you are just now joining us for the first time, then I thank you for taking the time to even read this. If you have been following along this entire time, then thank you for sticking around. I sincerely hope that everything you have read so far has been a surprise, and I hope that everything continues to be just as surprising to you. I have a lot planned, so strap in tight!  
**

**That said, onward! :3**

**-Disclaimer-**

* * *

"Matsuda... _Matsuda..._ For God's sake, not this again. _Snap out of it._"

Matsuda jolted to attention, everything coming roaring back into focus as he jerked upright in his seat and took in the scowl on his boss' face. "I wasn't sleeping this time, Chief," he murmured.

"No, but you were spaced out. Again," Aizawa pointed out, folding his arms across his chest in the quintessential _You done fucked up again, Matsuda_ look.

The younger man sighed in defeat. "Right. Sorry. Again."

"Do we need to have another talk?" the police chief prompted in clear agitation. "Again?"

"No," moped Matsuda, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and trying unsuccessfully to rub out some of the haze.

Apparently he had not been able to wipe away enough of it away to fool even his boss, because that coupled with his sullen expression elicited from the other man a sigh of his own. "Look, why don't you go take an early lunch?"

"I'm not really hungry, Chief."

"Then you should at least take a break and leave the building for a little bit. Go outside, get some air. Something. You look like shit."

Matsuda snorted, "Gee, thanks."

"I'm only saying it because it's the truth. And not only that, but I am going to be candid with you." Aizawa paused and lowered his voice just enough to emphasize his point without being overly dramatic, "I am sincerely worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"Really? Does spacing out during a just about every case meeting count as fine? Because I'm not so sure-.."

"Fine, I get the point. Just-... back off me, all right?"

For a moment, Aizawa just stared back at him in slight surprise. After all, it wasn't often that Matsuda talked back, much less expressed any kind of sarcasm, even in a joking manner. Matsuda saw a look of sincere anger pass over his boss' visage before it slipped away and was replaced with his usual impartial - albeit hard and hawk-like - gaze. Matsuda knew it was because he was trying to impart some leniency in light of everything going on, but he also knew that he was pushing the chief to his breaking point - a point that would have been far exceeded had this type of conversation taken place any time before that last September.

"I'm taking you off the clock for the next hour, then," he said at last. "I need you at your best for the meeting with the director and prosecutor about the Sunagawa case this afternoon. Go get something to eat. There's a nice place that opened up just a few weeks ago. Italian. You should go try it."

Matsuda considered, for a moment, asking the chief how much he would care about eating at a new restaurant if his fiance had been murdered, her case had gone cold, and his kids had been taken away by their deranged biological father. Or-.. the kids would have been taken away by their biological mother, in his case, if it was his fiance that was murdered. Or-.. whatever. After his thoughts tumbled together like that, he deflated and decided it would be better to just do as was asked of him. At least it would get the chief off his back for the time being.

With a short nod, he grabbed his keys and cell phone off his desk and marched off towards the elevator, but not without a glance in the direction of Aizawa's office. Only three months had passed since he and the chief had been discussing what steps to take next in order to get into Sayu's phone - the one she used to communicate with Near - when they happened upon said detective in the most unceremonious of manners. The man (_Man_, scoffed Matsuda's inner thoughts at the idea that such a word could be used to describe the childish, pajama-wearing asshole) had gained entry into the NPA headquarters via dubious means, bastardizing not only their building's security measures but also all of their hard, time-consuming efforts at contacting him for help on Sayu's case. All that only for him to then turn around and say that he had no help to offer. And the cherry on top of the whole shitty ordeal had been his announcement that the kids were no longer his "concern" and that he would therefore be taking them. In Matsuda's mind, that all had been nothing more than a powerplay of some kind.

Yes, three months had already passed since this infuriating event, but at the same time, it was still so fresh in Matsuda's mind, it felt like only three minutes had passed. He found himself still seething about it from time to time. Of course, the aftermath of what had taken place was still plaguing him, as Aizawa liked to point out - not that he _liked_ to point it out, much less _needed_ to point it out, but point it out he often did. Matsuda was sick of hearing it. He was sick of just about everything, but mostly he felt tired. He was exhausted to the point where he knew he was breaking and he wasn't even sure what was left holding him together at that point.

Well, he _did_ actually know what was holding him together, it was just that these things felt like nothing more than gossamer threads anymore. His ongoing respect for the old chief Soichiro Yagami, rest his soul, and his innate desire to uphold the law as best as he could in today's turmoil were all that kept him moving forward on most days. As long as he lived, he knew he would always fight for what he knew to be right, and that he would always fight for Sayu and the children, even though they were all dead to him now, both literally and figuratively. Not that the kids were dead, thankfully, but for all his lack of being able to contact them in any way, they may as well have been.

Matsuda sighed as he reached the outside of the building and breathed in the cool, late February air. Thinking of the children as being dead wasn't very fair, or appropriate, he realized. If anything else, they were all lucky the kids were still alive, considering their mother had been abducted right outside their door and the culprit still had not been brought to justice. Also considering how this had all taken place late at night and while Sayu had been taking out the garbage, simultaneously suggesting either that this person had been watching her or that it had been random happenstance, the murderer could have just as easily slipped inside her home and-... and...

No, he really should not be thinking of things like that right now. Or ever. Of course the kids were alive, and that was what mattered. They may not be with him, like they should be, but at least they were alive and being cared for. Right? Or maybe they weren't being cared for. Matsuda didn't really know. He no _way_ of knowing. The last he had heard, that creep-ass freak had taken them to the old headquarters the original L had built specifically for the Kira task force to conduct their own private investigation. And he had left them in their room, alone. The kids had never been left alone before, not like that, and Matsuda felt that such an action was especially thoughtless, given everything the kids had been through. The kids had been just as surprised - if not more so - by this apalling turn of events and had called him to state as much, but that was as far as any of them had gotten. Matsuda had had barely enough time to register that Near had _really_ taken the kids to that amazing, awful building (which was surely haunted, for all that had taken place there) before he was being cut off from them, this time for good.

And after that... nothing. Nothing but the daily rigmarole of fighting for a system that was still just as broken after Kira as it was before, if not more. Matsuda could never fully deny the part of him that still somewhat believed Light had been right in his assessment of the world, but could also never fully devote himself to that line of thinking either. It was Light's fault (no, _Kira's_ fault, as there was a difference between the two that Matsuda was never able to adequately explain, even to himself) that things had become what they were - just another pointless thing for people to kill each other, and themselves, over. But it was not fully Light's fault either - it was also his own. It was his fault, because he had failed to see Light's true nature from the very beginning. He had been a fool... had _always_ been a fool... _still was_ a fool...

Matsuda tried to shake himself out of these thoughts, he really did, but he always seemed to fall right back into them. Without Sayu and the kids, everything felt so dark and pointless. And without at least the old chief there to encourage him, what did he really have left? Fighting for justice? What was that even anymore, when people decided that an infraction as small as jaywalking could warrant murdering someone, and in the name of their god, no less? That really was no exaggeration - Matsuda had spent the better part of a day just the previous week, both pale in the face and green around the gills as he investigated a hit and run crime scene, where the driver had later admitted to running over the young woman on purpose because she should have been more conscientious of the lanes designated for pedestrians. Now, Matsuda was certain that the man's excuse that he had done it in the eyes of his god was nothing more than the man blowing smoke up everyone's ass, to try to get himself off the hook in any way he could, but the very idea that someone could use that as an excuse to brutally kill another person made Matsuda wonder what was even the point of trying to defend this crazy world anymore..

Oh, what was he even thinking of all this for anyway? Of course he was always going to fight alongside the law. Maybe he was going crazier than he thought, because somewhere in between all of that he had gone and collected his lunch and brought it back with him, where he now sat with it in the parking lot, still in his car, all without consciously realizing he had done it all. That realization, in turn, honestly frightened him. How could someone drive around, order food, and exchange money without remembering they had done all of it? He looked at the clock in his car. And forty-five minutes had passed while all of that was going on? He was lucky he hadn't gotten into a wreck or run over anybody on accident himself.

He looked down at his take-away box, filled to the brim with some risotto he didn't remember ordering, and didn't feel even the slightest bit hungry after all. Matsuda missed many things about Sayu - aside from her very presence itself - but one of the biggest personal things he missed was the little bento boxes she used to put together for him. He remembered being exceedingly envious of the bentos the old chief used to bring in, yearning for the day when whoever he ended up settling down with would make him his own. When Sayu had begun making them for him, he remembered making a big show of eating them where everyone could see, feeling proud that she thought of him enough to make them for him. Gazing upon the risotto now before him, even with the expertise behind the creation of such a cuisine, it still did not compare. Not even close. What he may have found to be appetizing once upon a time, was now completely unappealing. Everything was unappealing and dull by comparison to Sayu.

And there he went with his morbid thoughts again. He had to stop this. He had to move on - he just didn't know how. He didn't even think it was possible. How could anyone move on from something like this? Hadn't the chief's wife fallen into a similar bleak state after her husband's death? And the only thing that had really, truly snapped her out of it had been the arrival of her grandchildren. And now she was dead, too. He, Matsuda, had failed to protect both of them, as he had sworn in the old chief's name that he would do. Maybe things would be better for him - for everyone - if he were dead, too...

Swallowing down a sob, he tried to force down what he could of his lunch, but in the end he only took a couple of bites before his stomach impolitely reminded him to piss off and he pushed the rest of it away. Maybe he would try again after work at dinnertime, but definitely not when his stomach was twisted the way it currently was. His lunch break was almost over anyway.

Matsuda trudged his way back into work, feeling no better (if not worse) than before he had left nearly an hour ago. He dropped his keys and phone back onto his desk, eyes grazing over his inbox and seeing that that afternoon's mail had been delivered. Feeling numb and already feeling himself beginning to space out again, he started sorting through it, setting aside the pieces he knew he would have to address that afternoon. Towards the bottom of the stack, he came across a manila envelope and decided to tear into that one first, subconsciously because he thought manila envelopes were more important than ordinary envelopes.

That was when a black rectangular object casually slid out of the envelope and into his hand, as if there was nothing unusual about it. Of course there wasn't anything unusual about the object itself - it was merely a mobile phone - but its method of delivery and the fact that it had not been expected was what was extraordinary. He didn't remember ordering a new phone... but then again, he did just come back from a lunch outing, 75% of which he didn't remember, so maybe he had ordered a new one and had forgotten...?

Well, that was weird. Why would he order a phone like this anyway? His current phone seemed to be working just fine, and this new one was an older model, although it did appear to be in mint condition. Where did he even order it from, anyway? He turned the envelope over in his hands and examined the label with the return address on the front of it. His brow crumpled in complete and utter confusion. Ice Station Zebra Associates? What the hell was that? It was certainly not any cell phone manufacturer or distributor that he had ever heard of. Maybe it had been delivered to the wrong person? But no, it was clearly addressed to him. Obviously-... otherwise, why would it have been delivered to him?

All kinds of alarms began to go off inside Matsuda's head. Something about this didn't seem right. On top of that, the whole situation felt eerily familiar. But before he could fully comprehend what to make of it, the police chief was reappearing his desk, this time startling him so badly that he dropped the phone to where it clattered noisily on his desk.

"That better not be private mail that you had re-routed to the office again, Matsuda," Aizawa grumbled, not even bothering to comment on Matsuda's jumpy behavior.

"Er-... Right, sir, I think I ordered this one before you reminded me-... the last time," he replied, his mind still reeling from everything but at least able to form enough coherent direction to allow him to respond appropriately to his boss.

The older man let out an annoyed sigh but also did not bother to comment on Matsuda's apparent forgetfulness. "Well, we have that meeting with the director and the prosecutor here in the next twenty minutes. I hope you've gotten your act together better this time."

"Right, yes, of course, sir," he hastily agreed, moving to scoop up the mysterious mobile phone and deposited it back into the envelope before slipping the entire thing into his briefcase.

Aizawa gave him one last hard look. "And you might want to, um-..." he said as he vaguely gestured at Matsuda's front, causing him to look down in automatic response and blush upon seeing a few bits of risotto stuck to his tie.

"Thanks," he mumbled back, sweeping the pieces off into the trash.

The rest of the afternoon passed with surprising haste and ease. In going over his findings on the Sunagawa case, laying out everything in preparation for the upcoming trial, he all but forgot about the mysterious mobile phone back at his desk. His mind did wander once or twice, causing him to wonder again what this Ice Station Zebra Associates was and wishing he had a moment to look it up online real quick, but for the most part, he was otherwise too far occupied to think any further than that. Some part of him was truthfully grateful for Aizawa's inclusion of him on more and more of these tedious tasks. Had he been more conscious of it, he might have thanked the other man for helping to keep him so distracted, his meandering thoughts could not pin onto any one thing that was bogging him down.

By the time he was able to leave work, it was already dark outside and the air was thick with the scent of pending rain. It had snowed just a couple weeks ago, but already the air was beginning to warm up enough that any precipitation they were likely to get from here throughout the rest of the season would be in liquid form. It was still quite chilly outside, though, and he definitely did not want to be caught up in any kind of cold rain, so he hurried for his car. He got in, tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat, turned the heater on, and leaned back in his seat, taking in an enormous sigh and closing his eyes for a moment. He almost started to feel pleasantly numb. What a day...

His stomach let out a sudden loud groan when he was hit with the brisk smell of his lunch from earlier. He opened his eyes and let out a groan of his own when he saw the take-out container sitting there upon his dashboard, opened and fully exposed to the air. He couldn't believe he had forgotten his lunch in his car like that. Now it was surely ruined. And not only that, the heat of the food had long since dissipated and left a layer of condensation on his windshield, along with the unpleasant odor that only food that has been sitting out all day can produce. So much for the pleasant numb feeling...

Matsuda grumbled to himself and moved to pack up the container, deciding he'd toss it when he got home. He'd have to figure out something else for dinner, maybe just some plain old noodles or something, not that it mattered.

He was in the middle of carefully closing the lid back when he heard a phone ringing somewhere. Bewildered, his eyebrows knit together and he glanced around. Maybe he had accidentally butt-dialed someone...? He reached to pull his phone out of his trouser pocket, saw that it was off, and then came another round of ringing.

...Was that coming from his car's speakers? He blinked at them, trying to understand what it was that was happening, and that was when his car began speaking to him, causing him to fling both his phone and the take-out container across the center console of his car, coating everything in a thick, gloppy layer of stale, left-over risotto.

"Mr. Matsuda," said a garbled, synthesized voice from somewhere beyond his car's speakers, "Good evening. I believe we have a few things to discuss."

* * *

**Just a quick tidbit here - For my fellow Breaking Bad fans, did you catch the reference? :P**

**Please let me know what you thought! :3**


	2. Chapter 2

Matsuda was not sure of a lot of things - the weather; how vacuums really worked; why cats were always fighting just outside his window every night; how he was able to get out of bed in the morning; hell, even what he was thinking half the time. Most of the time, he didn't pay too much mind to what he didn't know, simply because he knew there was a lot that he didn't know and there was no way of knowing what all he didn't know. He knew that dwelling on these things would do him no good, so he did his best to sort through them and move on with his day, and therefore his life.

Greater uncertainties, though, he was unable to do anything but dwell on: like what was going on with the world; how could he ever move on with his life; what sort of troubles lay ahead for him; how was he going to get all this risotto cleaned out of his car, and, oh-... what the hell was Near doing talking to him through his car's speakers?!

"What on earth-.. Who is-... Who are-... _How_ are-..?!"

"Come now, Mr. Matsuda, surely you know who this is," said the distorted voice in an ever-so-slightly mocking, but otherwise chill, tone.

"O-of course I know who you are!" he spluttered in return, "But-... _why _are you..?!"

"It would seem the very act of my calling you in the first place would lead to the revelation of the 'why', Mr. Matsuda, if only you could cease your stammering for long enough."

Matsuda's incomprehensible surprise suddenly flipped to flat-out anger. "How dare you do this?! How dare you-.. hijack my car-...!"

"I have not hijacked your car, I have merely remotely accessed your car's Bluetooth feature. I'm sorry, I had assumed you knew how this feature worked."

"Of course I know how Bluetooth works!" he shouted, feeling more indignant by the moment, "That's not the point! Who the hell-...!"

"Mr. Matsuda, if this kind of pointless behavior continues, then I'm afraid I shall be forced to end this call prematurely. Incidentally, I'm afraid that also means that you will forfeit all further contact with the children."

Those words stopped Matsuda right in his tracks. "The children.. Further contact... What do you mean?" he stammered. He then ground out, "If you recall, you _cut me off completely_ from them three months ago."

"I do recall, but now I find the circumstances have changed," the voice went on, carrying with it a cool quality that Matsuda found both condescending and aggravating. "I will allow you to contact the children-.."

Matsuda's eyes popped open in surprise, "What-...?"

"...-if you will agree to the terms of the arrangement."

Anxiety over the whole situation building rapidly in his chest, Matsuda felt suddenly constricted from the inside out, to the point where his words came out sounding wispy and thin, "Terms? What terms? Of-... of course, yes, I'll agree. Just let me talk to them."

"The terms first, Mr. Matsuda. First and foremost, you will be allowed to contact the children via the phone I have provided to you - and _only_ via this phone. The phone is designed for the specific purpose of this arrangement. You will not be able to use it for any other purposes, including dialing emergency services."

"Okay, fine..." Matsuda said, feeling uneasy despite his simultaneous excitement, "But if you're allowing this, then-.. Let me guess - all of our conversations are going to be monitored?"

"Yes," was the succinct reply.

An overwhelming feeling of horror suddenly washed over him, and it wasn't just the very off-putting feeling of being caught in a small space, surrounded by the amplified, yet computerized, sound of Near's voice. "Y-You didn't put explosives in it, did you?" he said, staring and leaning away from where the phone was contained in his briefcase, splattered with old risotto as it was.

"Perhaps, but I expect that will not be a concern of yours as long as you keep this conversation and the phone between us." The voice barely gave Matsuda a chance to realize the implications before it was moving the conversation along, as if none of this was even the remotest bit out of the ordinary, "Which brings me to the next term - neither you nor the children are permitted to discuss anything about any cases, primarily the case involving their mother. Needless to say, this also means that you will not be permitted to communicate with the children while you are intoxicated."

While Matsuda did not miss the very pointed slight against him, he decided to shoulder it off for the time being and focused instead on the highlight of what had just been said, "So you don't want me to discuss any details about their mother's case with them... Why not?"

"There is no need for them to know of such details."

"But this is _their mother_... They have the right to know."

"I have every reason to believe that you have nothing further to discuss with them anyway, is this not true?"

Matsuda paused and then set his jaw, feeling defiant even through the grim truth of it all, "It's true. But then you wouldn't have said that if you knew otherwise, so what's your point? You don't want me to talk about what we don't know? Are you going to tell them that _you_ don't know anything either? Do they even know that the only reason you found out about them in the first place was because we called you for help?"

"They know enough, and that is all they need to know," said the voice, and the answer was so aloof, so dismissive, Matsuda felt himself wanting to scream and throttle the car speakers, as if that would satisfy whatever murderous urges he was feeling towards the voice at the moment.

"I still don't understand how you could-... how you could completely dismiss her case like that-... like _this_," Matsuda said. "Didn't she mean _anything_ to you?"

There was hardly even a pause before the voice coolly replied, "She is dead. That is all anything means in regards to her. And in any case, I did not go through the trouble of providing you with a means of contacting the children simply so you and I could have a heart to heart chat about a case that I have no interest in."

"You are such a-..."

"The bottom line is - there will be no discussions about any cases."

"So... What do I say when they ask? Because you're going to have to face reality and realize that they _are _going to ask."

"I expect you to be up front and honest, and tell the children that there is nothing to discuss, simply because that is the truth."

"...They really aren't going to accept that answer, Near. Well, Soichiro might, but not Chihiro."

"You are to refer to me as L, Mr. Matsuda."

"Fine, L, whatever," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Stupid Near and insisting on his stupid formalities, even now. "You aren't listening to me. You don't know Chihiro like I do. Once she catches onto something-... Once she realizes you aren't telling her the full truth-... At some point, at some time, she is going to demand answers - out of me, out of you, out of anyone she thinks has them. She's not going to let it go. "

"The answer remains the same."

"They aren't going to like me telling them that I can't talk about it with them."

"They don't have to like it, but that is the way it will be. The same applies to you. Now, I believe this part of the discussion is over."

"Well," scoffed Matsuda again, throwing his hands up even though there was no one physically present to gesture at. For someone who was supposed to be a super genius detective, there was just no talking sense into him.

"The final term is that you will be permitted to talk to the children only between the hours of 7:30PM and 9:00PM during the week, with more free reign on the weekends as I see fit. Needless to say, I have programmed your phone so that it will be useless outside of that time frame. Any phone calls made outside of that time frame will be outright rejected, and any texts will be held in a queue during the interim."

Matsuda thought that the whole 7:30PM to 9:00PM thing seemed a bit arbitrary, and he desperately wanted more time than that, but he wasn't about to look the gift horse in the mouth over it either. Well, not that this was some big generous gesture on Near's part anyway, considering all the rules and regulations, and also considering he was the one who had swooped in from out of nowhere and carried the children away from him in the first place, but Matsuda really did not want to go about making too many big demands at the moment either. He would just have to take what he could get for now and see what else, if anything, came of it later.

"Okay... that's all fine with me," he sighed both in agreement and with some reluctance. "When do I get to talk to the children?"

"For the time being, I have your phone set so that it can only send and receive text messages to the pre-programmed contacts. If you prove yourself able to handle such responsibility, then I will consider allowing you to make verbal contact with the children."

At this, Matsuda finally went about removing the phone from his briefcase and flipping it open. He was immediately confronted with an all-too-familiar lock-out screen. He gave an exasperated sigh, "Oh, hell, not this again. You're really going to make me go through the trouble of guessing a random password again?"

"The whole point of my giving you a phone in the first place is so that you can have access to it," the arid voice droned in reply.

"So what's the password then?"

"I am only going to provide it to you once, and you will not be allowed to store a written copy of it anywhere, so you will need to commit it to memory right away."

"As long as it isn't as long as the last one..."

Without any sort of warning, the voice began to list off a series of number, letters, and special characters. "Wait, I wasn't ready, hold on!" shouted Matsuda, mortified that he might miss something. But the voice continued on without missing a beat. He fumbled with the phone while he tried to keep up, and when all was said and done, Matsuda began to panic when he realized that he wasn't sure what all he had just entered into the phone. And of course the stupid display reflected only asterisks as soon as the entry was made.

"Would you at least let me repeat it back to you, to make sure I've got it?"

Matsuda heard what he thought was an exasperated sigh, but he couldn't be too sure through the computerized distortion. "Very well," it said. So Matsuda repeated back what he had heard. The voice confirmed that what he had memorized was correct, and he could only hope that after that, he would be able to continue to recall it.

"Do you have it now?"

"Yes, I-... I think I've got it."

"Now, if you have no further questions, I believe this concludes our business here."

"Actually, I do have a question."

A brief, if not peeved, pause, and then, "Go on."

"Why go through all this effort?" said Matsuda. He was met with silence. "Why all these rules and security measures if you're just going to be sending the kids away?" More silence, which prompted him further, "I mean, there's no point in trying to dance around it - we both know that you're planning on sending the kids away to that Wammy's place you came from. And you have shown that you have the power to keep us cut off from each other at your whim, so how does all of this benefit you?"

Again, there was a moment of silence, in which Matsuda had a very defined image in his head of Near stacking up one of his little idle toys, the way Ryuzaki used to do with his sugar cubes. The image was not half as entertaining as he remembered Ryuzaki's odd behavior being.

Finally, the voice said, "Are you familiar with the term 'Sollbruchstelle'?"

Matsuda blinked. "Soul-brush.. what?"

"It's German. Literally, it translates to 'ought-to-break-point', or 'predetermined breaking point.' It describes the way certain objects or systems are designed with a specific weak point, to absorb the damage done in the event of a catalyst."

Now it was Matsuda's turn to respond with only silence, because he honestly did not know what the heck Near was talking about.

Near, of course, sensed this and elaborated, "Think of the way concrete sidewalks are designed, with multiple contraction joints to allow for the cracks that will inevitably form during the expansion and contraction of the concrete to follow along a set point."

"...What does concrete have to do with anything...?"

"Eventually, at some point, something is going to break, and usually in a catastrophic manner. By giving the concrete a designated weak point, it lessens the damage that will inevitably occur."

"So... what you're saying is... you're allowing the kids to communicate with me because you're worried something big might happen later on if you don't?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"So, again, why are you even bothering with all of this if your whole endgame is to have the kids sent away? I mean, what does it matter to you if the cement cracks if you're just going to be tearing it all up anyway?"

"I have given you my reasoning. By allowing the children an avenue to contact you, it lessens the likelihood that they will seek other avenues."

Matsuda was quiet, thinking over everything. There was still something that Near was not saying, something that he was not admitting to - Matsuda was sure of it. Given all the confusion of the moment, he was barely able to form the reason in his mind, but it seemed he didn't have to, because his mouth did all the reasoning for him.

"This was the kids' doing, wasn't it?" he prompted, unable to keep the huge grin from forming on his face, "They forced you to compromise, didn't they?"

He could not help it - he let out an audible amused chuckle and his chest swelled with such pride at that moment, he felt he could burst from it. Screw Near and his stupid games - his own kids had just won one over on him. Matsuda knew in that moment that this whole arrangement was probably the hardest thing Near had ever done in his life and could not stop beaming over the thought.

_You get him, kids!_

He felt like letting out a loud, mocking laugh, and he almost did, at least until the voice began speaking again.

"Mr. Matsuda," said Near, his tone laced with so much cold malice, Matsuda could hear it even through the computerized distortion, "Whatever graciousness my children have, I can assure you they did not inherit it from me."

And then his car speakers let out a distinctive blooping kind of noise, signalling that the call had been ended. The blinking display on his dashboard also confirmed as much.

"Way to be a sore loser..." he replied to the now dead air around him, still grinning in spite of the threat. "And you still didn't answer my question. Prick."

Whatever, he could not dwell on that at the moment. He went about putting the password into his phone again, to make sure he didn't forget it. He did this over and over, putting the password in while speaking it out loud to himself. He remembered reading somewhere that in order to commit something to memory, you had to repeat the information to yourself at least seven times, and so he did this at least as many times as that.

Feeling overall satisfied with the whole turn of events, he felt like maybe he would have the last laugh after all, that was until he repeated the password out loud to himself one more time.

"Wait a minute..."

_3 _$u6At#E1b!0+ _...

"Near, you asshole!"

* * *

**Please note: The password at the end of this chapter is supposed to have an "at" symbol after the 3, but FF won't let me put it in there, so... hope it makes sense. x.x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! I hope this doesn't cause any confusion, but the first few chapters of this Arc are meant to kind of reflect the first few chapters of the first Arc in the way that this chapter is now circling back around to get Near's perspective before joining back up with the end of the last chapter. I thought it might be amusing, and it was certainly amusing for me to write. It is a bit shorter than my usual chapter length, but I think it works just as well. Hope you enjoy. Thank you again for reading! :3**

**PS: I posted this kind late at night, so I may find some more editing that needs to be done.**

* * *

"Okay, that's not creepy or anything."

Near paused in the middle of snapping two pieces of K-Nex together and followed his daughter's squinting gaze to where the two recently painted miniature finger puppet replicas of his children sat in the front seat of his K-Nex roller coaster. They sat there, side by side with their awkward painted smiles, ready to take a ride on the extensive track he had built, but he was not ready to send them off yet. He wanted to build a few more structures around the roller coaster before sending it on its way, something he was finding difficult with all these interruptions. But he supposed he should have been used to that by now, and if the children were now going to be a permanent fixture in his life, he was going to have to become even more used to it.

"Creepy?" he echoed softly, going back to what he was doing before, "I made them in your likeness - I don't find that to be creepy at all."

Near glanced up again in time to see his son's lips curl inward to where he bit down on them, and when that failed to hide his amusement, he brought one hand up to his mouth and looked off into an unoccupied corner of the room. His daughter, on the other hand, shot him a look that could only be described as withering, however Near himself remained impervious to such glares. He was, after all, weathered against looks of that kind.

After a moment, Chihiro seemed to force herself to relax. "Heh," she puffed as she resumed her usual imperious look, "Well, your skills as an artist are lacking, then."

Her caustic remark was also something he was able to shrug off with ease. After all, this was far from the first time he had ever received such criticism. Besides, he rather liked the little pieces he designed after his two children, regardless of who found them to be creepy. Knowing such remarks were only made to gain a reaction, Near decided to respond by giving her his usual deadpan look. It seemed to work, because she blinked back at him, clearly still unamused, but moved on from the topic nonetheless.

"Anyway, let's talk about a few things," she said, "If we're going to make living here together work."

Near cocked his head to the side and gave her an owlish, curious side-glance. So she was going to start making demands now that they had made amends? Well, Near wasn't sure if what had taken place a couple days ago was what one might normally count as "making amends", but he counted it all the same. This was the first time she had approached him since then, at any rate, including the fact that she had stopped torturing him by screeching on her violin just outside his doorway, so maybe the former was actually the forgiveness part and the demands were the making amends part. What should he know? He had never made amends with anybody before, and nobody had ever made amends with him. Either way, he thought this should be interesting. He remained quiet to allow her the room she needed to express her concerns.

"First of all," she started firmly, but not without a small glance of her own at her brother. The two exchanged a short look, which told Near that although his daughter would be voicing them, these demands were not entirely her own after all, "We want our butsudan back. We want it back, out of storage or whatever, and in our room."

"Okay," he agreed with such calm, it caused a look of surprise to pass over the expressions of both of his children, "I will have Lidner remove it from storage and deliver it to your room by the end of the day."

"We want it all back: Our family's urns, their photos, the incense - everything," she pressed further, almost as if she was daring him to tell her no.

True, part of him wanted to tell her no, knowing exactly whose photo would be on that altar, but it was not like he had to see it himself every day, nor did he have the means of refuting their request in any way that would not reveal that he had anything against honoring their deceased relatives, Kira or otherwise. He himself was atheist, so what should it matter what religious symbols his children decided to pray to? Although, he truthfully had not found either of his children to be religious in the least (they were both far too logical for such nonsense, in his opinion), so he figured this must be solely about respecting their deceased relatives as they knew them to be - as nothing more and nothing less. It did seem to be a bit distasteful for them to be paying respect to someone who had fancied himself a god and tried to murder him and his team with a supernatural notebook, but then again, Yagami was dead and the children knew no better, so what did it really matter?

"That is all fine with me," he stated. He thought about adding that they could have asked for it back at any time, but he decided to keep that bit to himself because he knew that it would not benefit the conversation in any way. "I assume you have further wishes?"

"Right. Yes," she said, giving a small huff. She had obviously been expecting him to argue with her and was now forced to exhale her anticipated frustration. Another small glance at her brother before she continued, "We want our family dinner time back, too - every day, after school, and also on the weekends."

"Very well," he agreed, not knowing what all it would entail but assuming the children meant that they no longer wanted to dine alone in their room. It would have only been natural for them to desire such interaction - it was the same for most people - and Near could not find a reason to deny them of this request either, as awkward as it would be for him.

"We get at least an hour, say from 6:00 - 7:00 PM. That gives us time to get home, complete our homework, and have dinner prepared. This also would give you time to wrap up whatever you're doing."

Oh. They were expecting him to actually _sit down_ with them... For a full hour... To make small talk...

Well, that changed things up a bit.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you a full hour," he said.

"Why not?" his daughter snapped back immediately.

"I have far too much business to conduct," he explained, which wasn't exactly a lie.

"It's only an hour."

"6:30 is the best I can do, under the circumstances."

"Under what circumstances? You're self-employed, you can do whatever you want."

"Exactly. From 6-6:30 is what I can make time for."

Not at all to Near's surprise, Chihiro only seemed to dig in her heels more-...

"7:00," she fired back with a sneer, "It's not like we're asking you to take us to Disney World."

...-So he had to try a different approach.

"6:30, or not at all."

Chihiro opened her mouth to argue back when Soichiro, who had been silent so far during the entire debate (along with the rest of his team, who he had almost forgotten was there listening in silence the whole time), suddenly found his voice and managed to interject, "Um-... what about 6:45? Would that be okay? I think-.. that would be nice amount of time."

Near and Chihiro stared at each other for a long moment, both appearing to refuse to back down. Really, he was waiting to see if she had any further contention before agreeing to it himself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that his son was being perfectly reasonable in his propsosal. When his daughter had nothing to say against it, Near said, "Very well, I will make myself available from 6:00-6:45PM."

Chihiro gave a sharp nod, agreeing to the terms as well, while Soichiro seemed rather pleased with his mediating.

"All right," she continued, "We will also make the dinner ourselves. No more ordering food from that stupid restaurant downstairs."

Near gave a slightly bemused look, "Is there something wrong with the food I have had them prepare for you?"

"Not particularly, but we would prefer to make our own."

"For all of us," Soichiro quickly added, casting an inclusive look at all of former SPK members who were stationed around the room. When each of them showed mixed looks of surprise and warm amusement, the boy looked down and flushed slightly. "If-.. that's okay, of course."

Seeing no reason to deny them of this request either; realizing having the rest of his team present might actually work to his own benefit; and hearing no arguments from his said team members, Near said, "Very well. If you will provide Gevanni a list of the groceries you require, I will have him make a trip to the local supermarket on a weekly basis."

"Actually, that's another thing - since we are going to be making dinner, we want to go to the store to pick out the groceries ourselves."

"We promise we will be frugal - Grandma showed us how to get the best deals," Soichiro chimed in.

"Money will not be an issue," Near said, waving away their concern. Chihiro gave a small snort but miraculously withheld what was sure to have been a scathing remark. "In either case, I will have Gevanni accompany you."

Chihiro bristled, "We don't need an escort."

"I believe you do."

"Why?"

"Did your mother let you go to the store alone?" he queried, more from genuine curiosity than as a means of provoking his easily-provoked daughter. Nevertheless, he fully expected the pained expression from his son (which, of course, instantly made itself present and Near pointedly focused away from) and equally expected an explosive response from his daughter.

He instead received from her a cool response, "As far as you know."

"That would be a 'no', then," he replied in a cool manner of his own. "Again, Gevanni will accompany you."

"We aren't escorted to school, why would we need to be escorted to the supermarket?"

"I would prefer that an adult accompany you."

Chihiro lifted her chin and set her jaw in defiance, "You didn't answer my question."

"I can have Gevanni start escorting you to school as well, if you prefer uniformity," said Near. At her affronted look, he decided to further drive home his point, "Or, if you prefer, I could accompany you to both venues myself."

Chihiro rolled her eyes, as if she could not fathom such an absurd thing, "_You_ would escort us? I don't think so. Look at you, you're a total shut-in. Perpetually surrounded by a hoarder's dream of cards and toys, overhead lights off half the time, you're pale as a ghost, you never brush your hair, and-.. I don't think I have ever seen you _not_ wearing pajamas. You obviously never go out unless you absolutely _have_ to, and even then, you don't go out without an escort of your own. What would be the point of _you_ escorting us if you are just going to have someone escort you yourse-..." She stopped abrutly mid-rant, deflating for a only a moment once she realized she had just been led in the exact direction Near had intended, before picking herself back up and setting a hand on her hip to emphasize her proud recovery, "Fine then. But we want Lidner."

Near almost wanted to smirk at her proud behavior, not wanting to admit that he had actually kind of missed this sort of banter. Aside from that, he did also notice the uncomfortable look on his female agent's face, who looked like she wanted to say something but didn't know what to say or even _how_ to say it. Near understood what she was thinking and answered for her, "I'm afraid I can't let you have Lidner. I have need of her."

Not to be deterred, Chihiro again fired back, "You have need of any one of your team at any given time, _shut-in_."

"You get Gevanni. That is that." Chihiro silently fumed, but nonetheless Near sensed that she had no further argument against him. With that, he said, "Now then, if that will be the end to your demands, I have work I need to get back to. And I believe you have some practicing on your violin to do, Chihiro. And Soichiro, you need to continue your work on the Rubik's cube."

"Actually, there is one more thing," said the girl, and Near, knowing the topic had to come to the table sooner or later, all at once knew what she was going to say. Still, it did little to prepare him for what he actually wanted to say in response.

"If we really are going to be staying here together, if we are going to make _any_ of this work, then you need to let us talk to Matsuda."

Near was quiet. He wanted to flat out deny this request for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Matsuda may as well have had the words SECURITY RISK stamped on his forehead, but he also knew that by doing so, he and the children would never mesh. He knew that the children also knew that he was aware of this, which was perhaps why they had appealed to him on all other counts first and saved this request for last. Whether or not the children realized his actual reasoning for feeling this way, they did pick up on his hesitation.

"If you don't let us talk to him," Chihiro said, "Then none of this will ever work out. We will never cooperate with you. And we will just find a way of getting to talk to him anyway."

Near remained silent as he chewed over his daughter's words and knowing just how truthful they were. He knew that if he did not grant their request and restore communication with Matsuda, they would just find another means of contacting him at some point, posing an ever greater risk to his operation. Even with being L, he simply had no way of controlling and monitoring _everything_, so-..

"So what will it be?" she went on, following along with his thoughts even as he kept them to himself. "Are you willing to work with us? Because-.." she seemed to falter, before picking herself back up again, "Because we are willing to work with you."

Near knew just how hard it must have been for his proud daughter to admit such a thing out loud at all, much less directly to him. But he was not sure he was ready to allow Matsuda back into his children's lives, and therefore back into _his_ life, not after everything. Not after he had turned Sayu against him and effectively stolen his children from him. And he knew that while Chihiro stated that she was willing to work with him (actually, she had used the word "we", because the twins were used to speaking for both each other and for themselves as a single entity), she would never fully do so if he did not agree.

Once again, he found himself put into a tight spot, forced to open himself up to all kinds of security risks, because of that careless idiot. If there was anything he could have ever thought of that would guarantee he would never have to have to deal with Matsuda again (short of having him killed, of course) Near was certain he would have done it in an instant. As it stood, this was not even an option. As much as he despised it, the fact was the man was so far woven into the lives of his children, he would never be able to be fully rid of him. It was another thing he would have to be eternally bitter about, it seemed.

Near chewed on the inside of his cheek for a long, silent moment in which the twins awaited his answer. Both of his children shifted their weight from one foot to the other, unconsciously in unison. In the end, it was his son's small murmur that did him in.

"...Please, Dad?"

Near physically felt his resolve crumble from the inside, almost making itself present on the outside as well. He let out a small, barely audible sigh and let himself focus on the work he was doing with his hands, with the K-Nex.

"I will consider it."


	4. Chapter 4

Chihiro wasn't sure if she felt more victorious or annoyed, but it was both for sure. She felt victorious because she and Soichiro had won out on most of their bullet points. They would be getting their butsudan back (and it damn well better be all in one piece exactly the way she had left it, for Nate's sake, or else there was going to be hell to pay), they would be getting their family dinner time back, and they would be finally getting to venture to someplace beyond their new home besides school.

But then she also felt annoyed because she had not won out on _all_ of their bullet points, or even completely on any of them except for getting their butsudan back. She could argue that aside from that, their most desired point was wanting to talk to Matsuda again - well, wanting to _see_ him, but they had figured that asking for smaller things first would have gained them the most favor. It seemed to have worked, despite their father's reluctance and refusal to bend 100% to their requests.

She supposed she could have counted their negotiation as an overall victory, despite the setbacks. It's not like she could have (or should have) expected everything to magically go 100% according to plan, not with a man as quirky and unyielding as her father was. Soichiro certainly seemed to take it all as a victory, though, for he fell into step with her as she turned to leave the command center and gave her an elated grin.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered to her excitedly as they left the room. "He said he would consider it - letting us talk to Matsuda!"

But that was just it - they shouldn't have even had to ask in the first place for Nate's permission to talk to Matsuda. And the entire debate shouldn't have been boiled down to him merely "considering" "letting" them talk to Matsuda. She felt at least mildly soured by his audacity to assert such authority over them, but she resolved to at least try to show some leniency towards his rigid responses if for no other reason than because both Lidner and her brother believed he meant no actual harm by it. His responses were not being given out of spite, but rather out of deeper concerns - his desires to minimize disruption of his work (which is what he was used to), to provide some kind of protection for them (according to Lidner), and some kind of obvious distrust of Matsuda. Chihiro felt it was likely jealousy, but she did not know this for sure. She liked to pride herself on her innate ability to read and analyze people, but as she had thus far discovered, her father was incredibly difficult to read. He apparently had no sleeves on which his heart would show, despite the fact that Lidner claimed he did have a heart. If she was going to try to make things work with him, that just meant that she was going to have to try harder to get to the bottom of his enigmatic persona, and that might mean poking at him from time to time. If he liked to play games so much (and clearly he did, seeing all his constant array of toys), well, maybe she would just have to play with him.

Feeling a little bit more optimistic now, and not wanting to dampen her brother's spirits, Chihiro gave her twin a small smile, "Told you it would work."

"And family dinner time!" he beamed back at her, "What are we going to make?"

Chihiro shrugged, "I don't know, whatever we want."

"Tonkatsu! And curry! Nikujaga!"

"Anything but those stupid sandwiches and stale rice cakes from downstairs."

"They weren't _that_ bad..."

Chihiro shrugged again because it no longer mattered to her either way - they would not be eating it again, and so that was that. Her brother was quiet and appeared to be thinking, while Chihiro busied herself with pushing the button to their floor, which was only a couple of floors above their father's command center. She was still a bit weirded out by the fact that they had an entire floor to themselves, despite the fact that they rarely saw the need to venture to any of the other rooms, but she supposed it would begin to feel more normal to her over time, not that they would be utilizing any rooms other than their own, at any rate.

"Maybe..." her brother finally said after gathering his thoughts, "...We should ask everybody what kinds of foods they like, too."

"Yeah?" she responded vaguely, wanting to get upstairs and play some more on her new violin. She couldn't deny that she loved playing it, even if it could never replace the one Matsuda had given her, which was broken beyond repair. Her old one was still laying out on one of the tables in their main living area. She had not been able to bring herself to either get rid of or tuck it away just yet, not that she was sure she would ever be able to. Even broken, it was still every bit as important to her as the new one she was able to currently play, and she was ready to fight anyone who thought otherwise.

"I mean, what if they don't like the same things we like? None of them are from Japan, after all," Soichiro mused, breaking her out of her thoughts, "You said Dad is British?"

"Right." Technically it was their mother who had told them their father was British (and Chihiro herself would not have necessarily been able to tell otherwise because he was admittedly fluent enough in his Japanese that his speech bore no discrenable accent), but Chihiro was not about to correct him and risk upsetting him over an insignificant detail.

"Well, I wonder what kinds of things British people like to eat."

"Never mind that," she said as they reached their floor and the doors slid open, "What kinds of things does _Nate_ like to eat? Have you ever even seen him eat anything?"

"Not besides tea, no... But he has to eat _something_, doesn't he?"

"Maybe not. Maybe he gets his daily vitamins injected directly into his bloodstream. It would certainly explain his small stature."

Soichiro paled, "Y-You really think he does that?"

"No."

"What does he eat then?"

Chihiro shrugged again, "Who knows? Probably sandwiches and stale rice cakes."

"I'll ask him. Before we go to the supermarket, I'll ask him what he likes."

Chihiro did not think their father would have any preference one way or another - food being one of the many things he seemed to be indifferent about - but all the same she gave a small nod to show that she supported her brother's plan. Upon entering their room, Chihiro went straight over to her violin, plucked it from its case, and went about prepping it for play. She had to sort out and analyze some of these stray thoughts about what all her father's nuances from that evening could mean. He was a new puzzle, thrust upon her, and she was determined to figure it out, otherwise she was sure it would drive her crazy.

Soichiro gave her a look of understanding and sought the Rubik's cube their father had given to him, sitting down at their living room table to work on it while she played, both of them working both independently and together to solve their new puzzle.

* * *

Lidner watched the departure of the Yagami twins from the command center. From their lively chatter, she could tell they were in much better spirits than she had seen since first meeting them at Skyreach several months before. One would have thought this would have set her at ease as well, however she could not help but feel a sense of disquiet. This feeling had been nagging at her over the last couple of days and now it had finally reached a head.

"Near..." she said slowly, trying to figure how to say what she wanted to say and ultimately failing. "Do you realize what you are doing?"

The World's Greatest Detective turned his head and gave her that curious side-glance that simultaneously made her feel small and like kicking him, "I'm not sure what you mean by that, Agent Lidner. If by 'realize' you mean 'do I understand what I am doing', then of course I do - I am accommodating my children by compromising with them. Is this not a parenting skill you approve of?"

"What I mean," she said with a sigh, "Is that... Do you really think it is wise to be getting their hopes up like this when you will be sending them to Wammy's House soon?"

"I don't see how allowing them some freedoms and catering to their sense of happiness is 'getting their hopes up'."

"It is if you are just going to be sending them away."

Near made a small humming noise as he went about his business with the K-Nex, his latest favored toy, "Are you implying that the children should be made to feel miserable in the interim?"

"No... Of course not."

"Also, I was under the impression that you wanted better communication between myself and my children. Is this not why you appointed yourself as our liaison? Not to mention how you went out of your way to defy me and sought a private audience with Chihiro."

Lidner pressed her lips into a thin, annoyed line, but otherwise did not respond. Despite her boss' audacious attitude, he did have a point.

"I thought so," he said in response to her silence. "In that case, if you got what you wanted and the children are also happy, then I see little reason why you should be complaining about it."

"I guess I am just not understanding your motives."

"My motive... Is to make my children feel more welcome in their new home."

"That's just it, though - this isn't their new home. This is their temporary residence, where they will only reside so long as it takes Roger to arrange things on his end." Lidner watched her boss closely and noted his lack of response. "You _did_ call Roger, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did just as I agreed I would do and contacted Roger the same night we discussed it."

"And?"

"And," he said with a bored sigh that made it sound like he was explaining something rudimentary to some kind of daft child, "He informed me that at the current time, he is not able to accept the children as there has been a delay in the transfer process."

The blonde agent perked up, surprised. "A _delay_? What kind of delay?"

"It seems that the British and Japanese governments have not made transferring orphaned children from one country to the other their top priority. I suppose it is unfortunate, though not entirely surprising when it comes to these sorts of things."

"I don't understand... They have had at least _three months_ to do whatever it is they need to do."

"Apparently that is not enough. Roger suspects that at least one of the entities involved has lost their paperwork but refuses to admit to it. I would say it is because someone is afraid of losing their job, but that seems unlikely to happen over a single pair of unwanted, bastard children. Either way, the process has stalled, and so the children are going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future."

"Are you sure it's not _Roger_ who has lost their paperwork?" she queried further, still balking at the absurd idea that a government could simply _lose_ paperwork pertaining to the transfer of two innocent lives from one facility to the next. "The man _is_ getting up there in age..."

"He is much further than 'up there' in age, and yet his mental faculties remain as sharp as any member of my team, otherwise I would not leave such important matters in his hands," he replied coolly. Lidner was not sure if she should feel insulted by the comparison or not. "I trust his words completely."

She was also not so sure she could agree with her boss on that note, knowing that the man in question had to be in at least his 90's and was prone to forgetting what time of the day it was, but she also found herself at a dead end with her impromptu interrogation. She could not tell if Near was being honest or guarded in his responses, as unfortunately even for her he was sometimes impossible to read. The fact that he spoke of the bizarre circumstances in such an offhanded manner told Lidner that, at the very least, he was not concerned. What she could not deduce was whether that was because he was hiding something or because he was genuinely unconcerned. Knowing what she did of her boss after working with him for well over a decade, she would have felt inclined to believe it was the latter, but then again, this _was_ Near she was talking about.

But maybe it was much simpler than that. Maybe all he was hiding was his more sensitive feelings behind his apathy. Hadn't she gone through explaining to the man's daughter just a few days ago that he _did_ have feelings and that he was just bad at expressing them? After all, it was clear to her that he did want to make his children happy, regardless of past, present, and/or future circumstances. It was also clear to her that now that he had his daughter's forgiveness, and encouragement from his empath of a son, he was much more willing to compromise.

And that was, perhaps, what was worrying her the most. The fact that he was willing to compromise with the children meant that he might be more willing to compromise in other areas too, including their safety - a thought which finally allowed her to continue her argument.

"Does Roger know that the children are in danger the longer they stay here?"

"He is aware, as we all are, that the children are only in as much danger as we put them in."

"How do you mean? The children are in danger simply by being here at all. And they are going to be in even more danger when I begin my investigations of the Church."

"My point being, the children are safe at school for the greater part of the week; then they come back here, where they are safer than they would be anywhere else in the world; and in between those times, they are closely tracked and monitored via their mobile phones. We have even discussed that Gevanni will accompany them to the supermarket on the weekends. At no point in time will they be left alone without any form of supervision. I equally trust that they are observant and intuitive enough to let us know if something or someone seems suspicious."

"What about letting them talk to Matsuda?" she went on, determined to poke a hole in his logic somewhere. She knew that she was right, but trying to articulate that against someone who _was _actually always right was proving quite difficult. It was especially difficult when that same someone was so keenly skilled at making counterpoints it left the opposition fumbling around in the dark for a rebuttal after every point, effectively dismantling their entire argument. She had seen and heard Near use these tactics a number of times, yet that did not help her in the least when they were employed against her. "Isn't that, in your own eyes, dangerous?"

"It is a bit concerning, yes," he said, again in that insipid tone, so completely misaligned with the words being spoken that Lidner could not interpret what he was really thinking or feeling. "But I don't plan on allowing either Matsuda or the children to contact each other at their own discretion."

"So you really are going to allow this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The children made it clear that they would not enjoy living here otherwise."

For a moment, Lidner was completely stunned. She was stunned that her boss was willing to go to such lengths just to make his children happy. Therein lied the smoking gun - their happiness was worth more to him than his own misgivings. It was so incongruous with the calculating, and oftentimes aloof, Near that she knew - and spoke to Lidner on such a deep, heartfelt level - that she was momentarily unable to formulate a response. The children being in danger by proximity or not, how could anyone have ever believed that Near would have ever harmed them? She almost wanted to tell him not to allow this communication between Matsuda and the children to take place, somehow feeling that Matsuda did not deserve such a favor from the man he had turned Sayu against. She decided not to voice her thoughts, though, because she was certain that Near was thinking the exact same thing and that he would neither voice it himself nor appreciate having it voiced to him.

Instead of voicing anything further on the subject, she decided that she would just have to take his word for it for now. Maybe later she would contact Roger to see what he had to say, if only to settle her own turbulent feelings on the subject, but for now there was nothing else she could say against Near and his decision to compromise with his children for their own comfort, as he had put it.

"All right," she said at a last, deciding after all of that to go through with whatever Near wanted for now. "I suppose I should go ahead and have the kids' butsudan removed from storage now, then."

"Not yet," Near said, lining up some of the unused pieces of K-Nex, and coasting easily from one line of topic to the next - a subtle yet effective way of declaring his victory, "Give them some time to finish up with their evening routines before moving on to that. It will be hard for them to focus on anything else if you are there with their family altar."

"And... you are sure about letting them have it in their room?" she asked, remembering not only the fact that the kids' murderous uncle would be a part of the arrangement, but also that there was now a vacancy that the children would no doubt want to fill - a process of which she had no real knowledge or understanding. The same she was certain went for Near as well.

"Yes. It seems to be quite important to them, so please make sure it is done before you retire for the evening," he answered evenly.

Well, if he felt any amount of discomfort with either aspect of the idea, he did not let it show. Lidner watched him a moment longer, waiting to see if he would reveal any kind of abhorrence to the idea, but of course he did not. Near was not the type of person to let the past weigh him down, at least not in a way that was outwardly visible to anyone. In moments like these, Lidner deeply wished she could pry into his mind to see what he was really thinking, but then maybe that explained his entire placid persona - the inside of him was entirely too muddled and chaotic for anyone to make full sense of it. And maybe it was best for her to just stay out.


End file.
